


The one in which they're monks

by Sholio



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, Humor, Monks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 06:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fandom stocking ficlet - total AU. Title says it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one in which they're monks

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Мир, где они - монахи](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523964) by [aqwt101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqwt101/pseuds/aqwt101)



> This is historical in the same sense that Monty Python and the Holy Grail is historical.

"But it's so ... plain," the duchess said, looking with dismay at the wooden box in her visitor's hands.

The young monk bowed. "Out of no disrespect to Saint Gertrude, I assure you, my lady. The abbot felt that it would be best to hide the true nature of what I carry, to avoid bandits on the road."

"Ah. A sensible precaution." Her fingers itched to open the box, but she restrained herself. "And your monastery is willing to part with such a treasure?"

"Hard times, my lady," the monk sighed. "Hard times. Of course, I am not even suggesting that you _pay_ for it ... obviously ... but surely such a gift would warrant a lavish donation ..."

"Oh, my husband would be more than willing," the duchess agreed. Her husband was away at war, but the visitor was a monk (albeit a very young, handsome monk) and surely there had been no harm in letting him in. 

"I expect you'd like to see it," the monk smiled.

She nodded eagerly.

With great care, he unlatched the reliquary. "Be careful," he warned her. "Gazing too long upon the relic can damage mortal eyes." And he opened the box just enough to offer her the smallest peep. She leaned forward eagerly, only catching a glimpse of something small and leathery before the box closed again.

She'd been expecting something ... more ... but of course St. Gertrude had lived many years ago, and it was only a very _small_ relic ...

One of her serving women tapped on the door. "My lady! There is a visitor."

The monk raised his head, looking oddly wary.

"Can't this wait?" the duchess asked impatiently.

"I'm afraid not, my lady. There is a traveling monk to see you" -- _Yes, another one,_ her tone seemed to imply -- "and he says it's quite urgent."

The duchess sighed. "I'm afraid we will have to take a moment --" she began, and turned around to find her young visitor halfway out the window, reliquary and all.

 

***

 

"This is a new low even for you, Brother Neal." 

There was no response from the young man plodding along, leading the donkey. Neal had tried to talk Peter into letting _him_ ride the donkey, but Peter won by dint of being a) older, and b) larger. And it was his donkey in the first place, dammit. (Well, technically the abbey's donkey, but whatever.)

"Selling false relics! Do you know what they'd do to you for this? Excommunication and death by torture come to mind."

Neal looked up and flashed the older monk a bright smile. "Good thing you won't be telling anyone, then?"

"I should," Peter said. "I should confess it all. My soul is probably in mortal danger just for _knowing_ you."

"I was going to give the money to the poor," Neal said, and added under his breath, "... most of it."

Peter heaved a sigh. They traveled onward in silence for a time, before Peter said, "What _was_ in that box, anyway?"

"Bones from a pigeon I had for last night's dinner."

"Ah."

More silence. It really was a lovely day, which made it difficult to stay angry. The only times he'd been out of the monastery, of late, were those times he'd been sent to find Neal and bring him back, and though he wasn't about to admit it, he really enjoyed being out in the world again.

"I really don't understand why you do things like this," Peter said at last. "You're a brilliant copyist -- the best I've ever seen in the years I've been in charge of the scriptorium. And I know you enjoy illuminating manuscripts. I've seen your face when you work on them." Even if some of the embellishments that Neal liked to add to the margins were a trifle ... inappropriate. It was a good thing Peter had confiscated that one copy of the Gospel of St. Mark before the abbot had gotten a look at it.

Neal shrugged. He always got evasive when Peter tried to get him to talk about himself.

But Peter thought he knew the answer. There was no future in the world for someone like Neal, an orphan taken in by the Church because there were no relatives to have him. Peter knew that Neal grew bored and restless with monastic life because he himself felt that way sometimes, too. But given the (extremely limited) options available for an intelligent, sensitive young man with no family connections, the Church was really the best of all possible paths.

Which made it all the more annoying that Neal was willing to do things like this, risking not only himself, but Peter for protecting him. Peter had managed to defuse the situation by telling the duchess that the monastery had decided to keep the relic after all; he only hoped that the story didn't come back to haunt him in the future.

If Neal wanted to be gone so badly, they probably ought to just let him leave. It wasn't standard practice, but people did leave the monastery sometimes, slipping out to resume a worldly life. All Peter really had to do was search a little bit for appearance's sake, and then go back and claim he couldn't find him. (Even though Neal was never that hard to find. Peter got the impression that he wasn't trying especially hard.)

But boredom aside, Peter really _did_ believe that the monastery was the best place for Neal. The idea of Neal starving in poverty, with those clever hands gnarled and bent from hard work ... it didn't bear thinking about.

And hardest of all to admit was the fact that he didn't just hunt Neal down for Neal's sake alone. When Peter had first shut himself away from the world, reeling from the plague death of his wife and young children, and still staggered by the things he'd seen and done as a young man in the Crusades, he'd thought that he'd never enjoy anything again. Neal was stubborn and infuriating, and sometimes Peter wondered what sins he'd committed to be stuck with him. But Neal made Peter laugh, and no one had done that in years. Peter had lost track of how many times he and Neal had missed Vespers or Compline because they'd been too deep in debate over some minor point to notice the time.

"I was thinking we could take the scenic route home," Neal said. "I've heard of a little village west of here that claims to have a copy of the Gospels of Lindisfarne --" 

Peter glared at him.

"... Not made by me," Neal said quickly. "Anyway, I was thinking that we could take a look and see if it's genuine. Just a little detour."

Peter sighed again. It really was a lovely day. "Lead on," he said.

Neal smiled brilliantly, and turned the donkey west.

**Author's Note:**

> In the course of writing this, I somehow developed a whole headcanon for them afterwards. *g* Basically, Peter is just as much of a thorn in the abbot's side as Neal is (though Peter's not really aware of it -- but he's skeptical, sarcastic and not good with authority, not a good fit with monastic life), and so the two of them will end up getting sent out to authenticate fake relics and investigate claims of demon possession and generally do monastery business as far from the actual monastery as possible. Occasionally they cross paths with two nuns named Elizabeth and Sara, who are doing more or less the same thing for pretty much the same reason. (It's the AU in which _all_ the pairings are platonic!)


End file.
